Page 48 of Sweet and Salty

“I'm in here because a violent person wanted to hurt you. I’d make the same move every single time, Zoe,” he continues. “Without a second thought. I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. Which is between you and danger.

More tears roll down my cheeks. “I love you,” I release the words I've kept locked up too tight for the silly fear of it being too fast.

I almost lost him tonight. How could I be so ridiculous to not tell him how I really feel?

“I love you, Owen,” I say again.

Owen pulls me closer with his good arm, his lips pressing against mine. “I love you, too, Kitten,” he says. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

“You couldn't control it.”

“I just wish I would’ve spotted him sooner and spared you all this.”

“Spared me? You're the one with a bullet wound.”

Owen shrugs, then winces. “Nothing I haven't dealt with before,” he says.

I shake my head, wondering how the hell he’s managing to stay so calm.

A knock sounds on the door before Caleb pops his head in. “Is it safe to come in and assess the damage yet?”

A soft laugh tears from my lips as Owen grumbles and rolls his eyes. “Come on in,” he says.

Caleb walks into the room, concern lining his features before he shoves that away and looks at Owens skeptically. “You look salty as ever,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You're sure you didn't do all this for attention?”

Owen flips him off with his good hand, and then they share some sort of silent communication that’s way more serious than the jokes Caleb cracks. They nod at each other, and I wonder what kind of experiences they've shared in order to reach that level of communication.

When the police follow in shortly behind him, I kiss Owen quickly, tell him I love him again, and step out so he can give his statement to the police.

And the entire time I'm away from him, I promise myself that I’ll never take life for granted ever again.

CHAPTER 19

Owen

Istretch my arms up and over my head, focusing on the rotation that my physical therapist demanded I do multiple times a day in order to loosen up my tight muscle where the bullet had gotten lodged.

It's been a week, and while I still have a little pain, it's nothing compared to what it could’ve been. That's something I've really been struggling with—images of whatwould’vehappened if I hadn't gotten to Zoe in time.

Flashes of my worst fears playing out behind my eyelids as I close them to sleep at night—Zoe getting hit with the bullet instead of me. That’s a pain I wouldn't come back from, heal from.

The only way I've been able to soothe myself is either talking it out with my brilliant girlfriend, or holding in her my arms and assuring myself that she's safe.

And despite the bastard being behind bars, his trial set for later in the year which I no doubt know he’ll be convicted of attempted murder, I still can't drop the protectiveness I feel around her.

She assures me it’ll pass with time, that my body is still in fight-or-flight mode when it comes to her. I'm making sure Iwork on all the mental and breathing techniques she’s taught me in order to get through it.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table in Zoe’s living room, Gregory glaring at it since the vibration woke him from his fourth nap of the day. I rub the spot behind his ears that he loves, and his gaze softens, forgiving me for the intrusion as he lays his head back down. I roll my eyes at the damn cat, and grab my phone.

Caleb: Can’t believe you’re going to do the club full time.

Me: Sure you can. It’s no different than when I left the military.

Caleb: At least I don’t have to trail you across the country this time.

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. I’m grateful for him. His heads-up saved Zoe’s life, not to mention the way he’d been there for her while I was in the ICU.

Me: You taking care of the club?

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